


After All

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Anti Lonely Howard Club 2k16, Howard falling in love with Gregg due to Gregg's consistent affection towards him, Interspecies Relationship(s), Lowkey featuring Naboo Vince and Bollo, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Morning After, consenual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregg may be obnoxious and overly sappy, but he teaches Howard that maybe some one can love him, after all.</p><p>Alternatively; Howard muses on his new relationship with good Old Greggory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After All

**Author's Note:**

> There is no one alive in this fandom that ships this please send help I am alone (like Howard Moon)

Howard awoke to the soft light of an English morning filtering through the curtains of his room in the Shoreditch flat. The sun cast a gentle dapple across his face, and with a rolling yawn, he scrubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes with a fist before dropping back down with a sigh and shifting into a more comfortable position. 

His single bed was not built to accommodate more than one person, and as such, the unusual lack of room became apparent to Howard as he turned to roll over. Eyes fixing on the intruder, he pursed his lips and let out a low groan of dismay. No wonder his head was aching. Of course the night previous had been wild enough for him to accept his occasional (but growing more frequent) lover into his bed. 

The scent of creamy alcohol lingered with that of salt and damp plant matter, and the jazz musician was fairly disappointed in himself upon realizing that the smell didn’t turn his stomach anymore. Baileys were good, and Gregg had brought them Ashbourne and butterscotch schnapps this time to pair with their drinks. A few glasses later paired with a cool, slick hand caressing his inner thigh, and Howard had more than willingly led the way up to his bedroom. 

The rest of the crew had been, yet again, out on the town, leaving the musician by himself to answer a knock at the door and a pair of adoring blue eyes accompanied by alcohol being waved in his face. There really wasn’t an excuse he could come up with to send the fishman away, especially not when he was pursing his lips so sweetly and reminding Howard of the time that red-painted mouth had been stuffed with his cock. 

As much as he detested admitting it, Gregg was a good lay. The fishman, once aroused enough, (which didn’t take much), generally stayed quiet at Howard’s demand. Gregg was a receptive lover, choking on his words and letting only gasps and mewls spill out. His “mangina” was just that, and Howard, being the lonely gentleman he was, was more than happy to oblige Gregg’s pleas for sex. 

Webbed hands and feet, seaweed threaded hair, and fishy smell aside...Gregg wasn’t all that bad. Once Howard had relaxed enough by means of Baileys to ignore the fishman’s declarations of eternal love and peculiar threats, he found it easier than it should have been to lay his hands on the other. 

Howard took a moment to reflect on this, gazing tiredly at the dozing fish. The delicate opperculum of the gills lining Gregg’s neck fluttered under the musician's breath, and one finned ear twitched as Howard moved closer. He inhaled slightly, remembering the cool sensation of Gregg, wanton and open beneath him. Obsessive fishman or not, Howard was pleased to have found someone who was attracted to him. 

One hand reached out and gently swept a few fronds of hair out of Gregg’s face, calloused fingers smudging half worn off greasepaint. Gregg stirred slightly, leaning into the much warmer touch. Their body temperature differences certainly made for touching to be an electrifying experience, especially, during sex. Howard swallowed tightly in his throat as the fishman nuzzled into the palm of his hand, and withdrew it in order to sit up and stretch. 

Gregg made a soft noise and rolled onto his stomach, the sheets slipping off his lithe body and catching Howard’s eye. He ran a hand down Gregg’s back, fondly squeezing an arsecheek, then stood and rummaged about the room for some clothes. 

Howard exited the room wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, his usual pajamas, and headed into the bathroom. Familiar with Gregg’s reaction to being out of the water for so long, he soaked a rag in tap water, then squeezed it out. Twisting the rag a final time, he headed back into his room and draped the rag over Gregg’s neck, patting it into position over his gills. 

The fishman made another soft sound of pleasure and blinked up owlishly at Howard, turning his head to reveal a sweet smile. Howard shook his head a little, one side of his mouth lifting in amusement. When quiet and sated, Gregg was a pleasurable companion. The affection certainly did Howard no harm. 

Howard stooped to press an open-mouthed kiss to the top of Gregg’s head, steadfastly ignoring the lingering taste of brine. Gregg nearly purred at the show of affection, pulling the sheets back up over himself and batting his eyelashes at the other. His greasepaint makeup was smeared, some red left on Howard’s lips and shoulders and neck. The damage to Gregg’s eye makeup was irreparable, and Howard chuckled at the sight of the disheveled fishman. 

Gregg returned a quiet giggle, unsure of what was funny, but pleased that Howard seemed to be pleased. Howard patted Gregg on the head, then turned and exited the room, closing the door behind him quietly. Gregg lay back down, adjusting his wet rag against his gills and closing his eyes. 

Howard wandered out into the kitchen, only to be met with the inquisitive, smug, and impassive faces of Bollo, Vince, and Naboo respectively. He pursed his lips again, then opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He poured a glass of water as well, then moved about the kitchen to make toast. 

Vince finally broke the silence, clearing his throat softly. “So, Howard.”

Howard sighed lowly and turned with a forced smile. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m proud of you, you got yourself a girl, there, Howard?” Vince grinned brightly, approaching and clapping Howard on the shoulder. “We heard you when we got home last night, we did.”

The jazz aficionado shrugged him off and grimaced, nodding. “Yeah, thanks. I’m...she’s. We’re busy. Don’t you have some sort of party to be at?” 

Vince laughed, tossing his hair over his shoulder and agreeing. “Well, yeah, okay. We’ll leave you two to it, then, yeah?” With that, the three left, leaving Howard to the familiar slam of the flat door. 

For once, he was glad the others had gone. Howard made his way back to the bedroom, balancing the tray of their drinks and breakfast on one arm, to open the door. He settled the tray on his nightstand, then perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Breakfast in bed for Old Gregg?” Gregg asked, sitting up fully and tilting his head to the side like an eager puppy. 

Howard licked his lips as Gregg leaned closer, draping an arm around the fishman. “Yes. Breakfast for Greggory.” 

Gregg beamed. The sheer adoration on his face made Howard’s stomach flip, and he smiled back, entangling a hand in the silky fronds at the nape of Gregg’s neck. Using his grip to pull Gregg into a firm, but brief kiss, he gestured at the spread. “Go on, then. Drink some water. It won’t do to have you all dried up.”

That look of joy and sweetness still on Gregg’s face, the fishman turned, settling back into Howard’s lap and taking an obedient sip. Maybe someone did love Howard, after all.


End file.
